


Found Out

by Kalypso



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 221B Ficlet, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-03
Updated: 2013-12-04
Packaged: 2018-01-03 11:52:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1070163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalypso/pseuds/Kalypso
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A trio of 221b stories about which characters read Sherlock/Lestrade, and which writes it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. What Lestrade found out

**Author's Note:**

> Sort of slash. Sort of _about_ slash. But don't get your hopes up, there's not very much slash. There's also some het, but not much of that, either. 
> 
> This was originally written for the [sherlockbbc](http://sherlockbbc.livejournal.com/) community on LiveJournal, after thinking about the attitudes the characters would have to Sherlock/Lestrade led to three linked 221bs on the theme. But the problem is that it ought to have been written by a proper slashwriter, and despite god knows how many years reading and enjoying slash I can't write it for toffee (humble admiration for all of you who do). So if you read this, can you just imagine a Platonic Form of the story in which the relevant character writes something less wishy-washy and preposterous?

_Blue eyes melted into brown, dark hair spilled across grey. "Lestrade," whispered Sherlock..._

She deleted that. _"Leroux," whispered Shackwin._

"Sally, can you find the file on the Dulwich stabbing?" said Lestrade's voice, behind her.

She started. "Yes, sir. Just a minute..." She stumbled across the office, dug it out, then turned to see Lestrade gazing down at her iPad. Slowly, incredulously, he looked up at her.

" _You're_ the one who writes online porn about me and Sherlock?"

Oh god, it was even worse than she had thought! He'd already read it! They'd laughed about John Watson's blog; she should have realised Lestrade might look further.

But she'd done it for _him_ , originally. It was a way to give her revered boss some sort of control over the freak who mocked him - the psychopath who sneered at _her_ for enjoying the kind of relationship utterly beyond a man who didn't find bodies exciting until they were dead. She'd put him on the human level he despised, to make him as ridiculous as he thought _them_.

How to explain how beautiful it had begun to seem? No, best to say it was a bad joke for which she was sorry, hand in her notice, and apply for another job a long way away.

"Well," said Lestrade. "Can I put in a request for... baroque?"


	2. What Lestrade didn't find out

_Lestrade and Sherlock fenced their way down the corridor, until the soldier disarmed the young aristo with a flick of his wrist. The rapier clattered to the floor, and he advanced on his helpless opponent, slashing open his shirt with a delicate stroke that tickled without drawing blood..._

There was a pause. "He couldn't do that."

"He could! He totally would!"

"How d'you know?" asked Anderson.

"I..." Sally hesitated. "I just do. I'm really channelling the boss tonight."

"You're just saying that because it was your turn to be Freak."

"Look, what are you complaining about? It's just fantasy! You keep saying, the sex has been brilliant since we started the roleplay..."

"Mm," said Anderson smugly. "And I almost enjoy seeing him at crime scenes, just thinking of the look on his face... well, on your face, really... but then, the look on _his_ face if he _knew_!"

"And it's almost worth listening to what he's saying to get tips on dialogue..."

They slowly sank on to the bed, smiling the same broad smile.

"This _is_ just our private fantasy, isn't it?" he asked suddenly. "No one else knows?"

"Well, of course it is! Who else would believe it, anyway? You can't really imagine Freak doing it, can you?"

"No," he sighed. "But I'm glad you can. You really make me _believe_..."


	3. Who else found out

_Sherlock shuddered to a blissful halt, and finally released his clutch on the handfuls of curls cascading from Lestrade's head._

"Really, Detective Inspector, where _did_ you get that periwig?" he murmured. "It's your best outfit yet." 

"Thanks," said Lestrade, getting his breath back.

"Or should I direct my praise to your sergeant?"

"Oh." Lestrade looked a little sheepish. "You read her slash too."

"I most certainly do. John told me about it; I gather his girlfriend is a big fan."

"So the whole of London is fantasising about what we do in bed?"

"I think you'll find the internet spreads rather wider than _London_."

Lestrade tried not to think too hard about this. 

"I gave her the prompt," he admitted. "I already had the wig. Hired it for a fancy dress party. Then, when I realised I'd suddenly developed the power to pull anyone in the room, I thought I'd better keep it. I've got to get you one of those lacy shirts, though."

"Why?"

"So I can slash it open, of course!"

"Just give me yours," said Sherlock, twining his fingers through the long curls again. "Anyway, as it seems we have the opportunity to be interactive with our author, I suggest we give her a _proper_ challenge." He grinned wickedly. "How about a prehistoric AU in which we're both... brachiosaurs?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These are what this was all about:   
> 

**Author's Note:**

> By the time I learned that the 221b format had been defined as "221 words, the last one beginning with B", I had already found myself writing all my fic in this fandom in multiples of 111, so my version of it is "221 words plus an extra one beginning with B". In case this offends anybody, I offer three optional one-word cuts: (1) even, in the sixth par; (2) slowly, in the tenth par; (3) long, in the final par.


End file.
